Summary

The Old Man and the C… U-M

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he screamed as he stood out of the squat, flexing his growing quads and his thickening lower back, thrusting his hips forward like he was fucking someone and was about to plant his seed - a motion of masculine power. Officer Jacobs slammed the weight back into the rack and stepped away from it, slapping the bar with his open palms. “Fuck YEAH! This is so… fucking… intense!”

Jacobs began flexing in the wall mirror, pulling the sides of his shorts up to expose the sweep of his entire quad - his cock so erect that the head poked out above the waistband. Big Budd couldn’t help but be impressed - it didn’t hurt that he’d always harbored a bit of a cop fantasy - still, Officer Jacobs was becoming a fine specimen.

Both of them were. Hooking up with Jacobs for this workout was the smartest thing Big Budd had ever done - short of listening to his brother about spending their inheritance money on this Littleman’s stuff. Jacobs was the most experienced lifter, with the possible exception of the football coach, who seemed more interested in the younger guys anyway - his brother and the Maryland Bartender, who probably played high school football and fell-in naturally with a leader like the Coach. They were busy bench-pressing on the other side of the free-weight area.

Jacobs had gone straight to legs.

Big Budd stepped up to the squat rack, taking a second to admire himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what he weighed, but he could see that there was no mistaking him for anything other than a bodybuilder now - he knew there was no hiding anymore.

But Big Budd had stopped wanting to hide.

He was so into it, so amazed at how masculine he felt, so turned on, that Big Budd wanted every man to experience it. Yeah, every man should do the Littleman’s program.

He hefted the weight up onto his shoulders, smirking at how good it felt, distracted by his erection, and a cock that was just as big as Officer Jacobs, poking obscenely above the waistband of his shorts.

It kept getting bigger - and Big Budd loved it!

With five-forty on the bar - six plates a side! - Big Budd stepped back to squat. Officer Jacobs was behind him, spotting, hands on Big Budd’s thickening ribcage, quads firmly pressed into Big Budd’s hamstrings - the lump of his cock pressed against Big Budd’s ass, the head of it tickling his lower back.

Doing the reps was just like having sex - better, in fact. More manly, especially with Officer Jacobs’ cock forcing its way into his ass crack. When Big Budd stood with the weight, he couldn’t resist it anymore - he exploded from his desire.

“Aw… FUCK!” he screamed, flexing and thrusting.

As Jacobs helped him rack the weight, the officer said, “So fuckin’ hot. Look at your fuckin’ muscles! Look at your cock!” right into his ear, pressing himself into Big Budd’s back, reaching around and feeling Big Budd’s swelling torso. “C’mon, buddy. I gotta fuck!”

“Yeah… YEAH!” moaned Big Budd, who only realized what was happening when Officer Jacobs pulled his spandex shorts down to expose his newly pumped ass. He was so hot, so driven right now, he didn’t even think of the ramifications of the act - Big Budd just needed to fuck, too.

And then Officer Jacobs was pressing his big cock against Big Budd’s asshole. Big Budd felt it, like an oversized cucumber at the door, wanting in. Instinctively, he pressed against it.

And miraculously, in it went, and somehow, he stretched to take even more, until Officer Jacobs was buried up to his pubic hair, until Big Budd felt it tickle the skin of his ass. It didn’t hurt - quite the opposite, it brought ecstasy, pleasure beyond description.

Nothing in his life had ever felt so masculine!

He flexed - Jacobs flexed his hips. They fucked, long and hard, sweaty and savagely. Big Budd could see around the gym - watching the other guys go through the same thing, the same initiation. There was Little Budd, straddling the football coach on the flat bench, riding the man’s big cock while the Coach did reps with 315 on the bar. The Bartender, while spotting, squatted down low enough to sink the head of his cock into the Coach’s mouth.

The Bus Driver was doing pull-ups as the Old Man hung with his arms wrapped around the Bus Driver’s waist, sucking the Bus Driver’s enormous cock as he did his reps. The Old Man was starting to look more like the Coach, mature and barrel-chested, except his hair was looking less and less gray - it would now be called salt&pepper. The Old Man sure could suck a cock.

The other two guys in the group, the Oil-Rigger from Alaska and the Law Clerk from Boston were posing into a mirror by the military press, where the light shone directly down, highlighting their growing musculatures and their powerful, uncontrollable erections, which jut out from their hips and cast heavy shadows on their legs. One would pose and the other would feel the hard muscle, erotically stroking it, then they’d reverse - they worshipped together, these two who would never have spoken to each other before joining the Littleman’s group.

When Officer Jacobs came, deep inside Big Budd, he roared and flexed a double-bis, showing himself and the world the improvements in his body, the continued growth, the sexy, sexy chest-hair that swirled in chestnut. When he pulled his big new cock out of Big Budd’s hole, neither of them could believe its size.

“Bet that felt fuckin’ good,” said Jacobs, not even softening, admiring the size he’d gained.

“I can’t believe I done took that whole thing,” Big Budd said, in awe of himself, proud, not shocked. He indicated his own cock, so hard that it seemed to stretch itself bigger. “You reckon you can take all o’ this?”

Jacobs smirked and spun around, bracing himself against the squat rack.

“There’s only one way to find out,” he said.

So Big Budd fucked him - and his cock fit just fine. It even GREW while out of sight - it got bigger INSIDE Officer Jacobs, who fucked himself so hard on it that he came again.

Again, a bit sweaty and out of breath, that wave of masculine euphoria swept over them, rejuvenating them, intensifying - all Big Budd could think about was muscle and cock.

Fortunately, there was plenty of both.

They came together as a group in the center of the gym, standing in a loose circle and admiring each other’s changes. Using the Bartender as a standard - he hadn’t taken the third dose, remember - they could easily see how much they’d gained, both in muscle and cock. The Bartender had been one of the best hung - now he was the smallest. Even Big Budd’s cock - if it would EVER get soft again - dwarfed the Bartender’s. As it was, it reached up past his navel, almost to the base of his rib cage, and so thick.

“Look at you guys,” said the Bartender. “Look what this shit’s turning you into!”

The Coach put a heavily-muscled arm around the Bartender’s beefy shoulders. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he said, tilting his head so he and the Bartender could kiss. Without hesitation, they did.

“I reckon this shit’s turnin’ us queer,” said Little Budd to the group. Then he smiled and waggled his over-sized dick. “But I reckon I don’t care! I feel so fuckin’ great! And look at this fuckin’ body!” He flexed for them, putting his arms behind his head and squeezing his abs - Little Budd had become a little musclegod.

“You guys ain’t even begun to feel it, yet,” said the Bus Driver, who wasn’t so much bigger than them anymore. The Coach had almost caught up to him - so had Officer Jacobs. “Pretty soon,” he said, flexing that incredible body, “you won’t be able to think about anything else.” His cock reminded Big Budd of a baseball bat - Big Budd wondered how it would feel to be fucked by that cock.

But Big Budd didn’t feel QUEER - just unbelievably manly.

And then a voice from behind them, at the door to the locker room. Dane, naked and ready, that look of euphoric satisfaction on his face, called to them, waving them in with one massive arm. “Hey, boys,” he called, “before you get too carried away, how ‘bout you bring some of that action to the hot tub? That way, no one peakin’ through the gym windows will get a free show.”

Laughing, the guys moved en masse toward him, arms around each other shoulders, hands finding their way to thick, muscular asses. The Bus Driver found his way to Big Budd. “Don’t get too far away,” he whispered in Big Budd’s ear, wrapping an arm around Big Budd’s torso possessively. “I’m achin’ to fuck you. You and your little redneck brother turn me on something fierce.”

“I reckon I can’t speak for my brother,” said Big Budd, grabbing the Bus Driver’s huge cock like a stick shift, “but I’d love to get you inside me.” He was tickled by his own brazenness, by becoming the man of his secret dreams.

The Bus Driver hugged him close and they kissed - the other guys laughed and patted them as they passed. Big Budd loved kissing another man, the rough coarseness of beard against his face, the hidden power. Yeah, it’d be easy to become a muscle-slut - to be like the rest of these guys. He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted it.

In a large, open space connected to the locker room, in a sunken hot tub, sat the gigantic gym-owner Ivan, his hairless torso exposed from the rib cage up, his arms stretched across the back of the rim. The bubbling water did little to hide the head of his erect cock, which broke the surface like a floating grapefruit. He smiled when he saw them, and said, “Excellent! And who is joining me to make hotter this tub?”

Little Budd almost cannon-balled into it, standing on the molded plastic seat, a foot on either side of the wide Ivan. “How ’bout me?” he asked, his cock already in Ivan’s face. “You ever sucked on a guy from Kansas? I reckon a corn-fed diet makes the cum sweeter!”

Ivan sat up, wrapping his arms around Little Budd’s legs, easily slipping Little Budd’s cock in his mouth. There was no speaking, just ecstasy.

The tub was big enough for eight normal men, but only a few Littleman’s guys. In the tub, on the floor around it, it didn’t take long for the orgy to begin. Couplings varied, though there were a few consistencies - as the Coach wrestled the slippery-wet Dane into submission - a prospect that would’ve seemed impossible a few hours ago - then began fucking him, the Bartender was right there, kneeling in front of them and feeding his not insubstantial cock into Dane’s hungry mouth.

Next to them, almost on top of them, the effeminate Law Clerk from Boston - who’d come to their first meeting in his Gucci loafers, impeccably-pressed shirt, and wearing the latest style in eye-glasses - none of which impressed Big Budd, so Big Budd largely ignored him, until, like the rest of the guys, he’d become too large to ignore - now knelt before butch Officer Jacobs, licking along the ridges of Officer Jacobs’ deep, vascular cuts as Officer Jacobs posed for him - for ALL of them - and gladly accepted the worship.

In the tub, on the opposite side of Ivan, sat the Oil-Rigger from Alaska, hands behind his head, inadvertently flexing his growing biceps, switching his view between the vignettes around him, a contented smirk on his face, while the Old Man, submerged in the center of the hot tub to his shoulders, knelt between the Oil-Rigger and Ivan, one hand on one’s cock, the other on the other, and jerked them both off.

Big Budd and the Bus Driver were the only kissers - they sat on the edge of the hot tub, feet in the water, making out like two teenagers after the prom. Queer or not, Big Budd LIKED kissing men - he made that decision then and there - he liked the strong lips and the tickle of stubble, even if he was HUNGRY for something else. When the Bus Driver started pushing Big Budd’s head down, Big Budd realized what it was.

To make himself more comfortable, Big Budd slid into the tub, knelt on the seat between the Bus Driver’s legs, and kissed the head of the Bus Driver’s huge cock. The Bus Driver mumbled, “Yeah,” and leaned back on his hands, letting his head fall. Though he badly wanted to, Big Budd wasn’t sure if he could take something this large in his mouth. He knew his ass could - though he didn’t understand exactly how - but his throat?

All it took was effort. He was reminded of a video he saw once of a snake eating a rat that was bigger than its own head. Somehow, the snake opened its mouth wide enough to swallow the rat in one piece - Big Budd didn’t know the word “dislocated” - he’d likely say, “pulled it out of whack” if he threw his shoulder out.

Still, he was able to get his mouth around the Bus Driver’s dick, even if he DIDN’T understand how, and then, just as easily, down his throat. With one hand, he fondled the Bus Driver’s citrus-sized balls, with the other, he played with himself. He wanted to give the Bus Driver the best head of his life.

Ironically, it was Ivan who shot first. Amidst the moans and the groans and the “Oh, yeah, fuck me”-s that provided an almost musical accompaniment, percussive slaps and sucks as rhythmic drive, the big, hairless Russian exploded like a fountain in the middle of the pool, a near-geyser of cum erupting thanks to the Old Man’s talented hand.

It started a chain reaction. All of them, caught in the camaraderie of manliness, orgasmed like it was a cold germ passing between them. Around the room, the muscular men began to shoot. In each other’s asses and mouths and beneath the surface of the hot tub, they came until the water turned white.

Dane knew the stories - presumably, so did the big Russian if he’d completed his cycle - it was the folklore of the project - of the adman and the Littleman’s founder discovered in a backyard pool full of their own cum, helplessly growing and fucking, their impossible genitalia spewing out more and more - of the office-mate who’d discovered them, of the firemen who tried to rescue them, of the accidental contact and submersion, as man after man fell to the same fate, growing to huge sexual beasts within moments.

There’d been modifications to the formula since then, or course, and, as a transforming agent, cum wasn’t as potent anymore - though it still had an effect, usually making the man who came in contact with it (or even who smelled it) uncontrollably horny, even physically improved, though certainly not as drastic a transformation as what happened to Tucker Forrest or Larry Littleman in that pool that day - and that’s only if the folklore were actually true, and not just a morality play.

And now, in a hot tub bubbling like a soupy broth, like fondue, the cum of eleven men mingled with unknown properties. It meant nothing to Big Budd, who, while sucking on the Bus Driver’s thick dick, found himself pulled out of the tub, kissing the Bus Driver again, and sliding himself onto the Bus Driver’s cock, so they were able to make out while the Bus Driver fucked him.

“Shoot into the hot tub,” said Dane, pulling himself away from the Coach, easily pushing the Bartender back. “Everybody shoot into the hot tub.”

And so they did, they encircled it, they allowed themselves their orgasms, and they filled it to the rim with their thick, salty cum. There it was, soupy, like fondue, when the Old Man literally jumped into it. The guys laughed and cheered - Dane seemed fascinated, like it was a science experiment. “Look!” said the Old Man. “I’m John the Baptist!” (Was the Old Man a Preacher or something? Big Budd wondered. He didn’t know what the Old Man did for a living - he’d nearly forgotten the Old Man had shown up to the conference with a walker.)

The Old Man submerged, surfacing briefly to catch his breath. The white goo of cum soaked his hair, covered his skin. “C’mon in,” he said. “Water’s fine!” Then he went under again - and this time, he didn’t come back up.

It was difficult to think with a clear head so soon after orgasm. Big Budd was still reeling with ecstasy, with the power of his growing muscles, with the needs of his over-sized dick. By the time he realized that the Old Man might be in trouble, that he might actually be drowning in the mixture of their cum, the others had already sounded the alarm.

It was Ivan who stepped into the hot tub to actually rescue him. Maybe the owner of the gym’s concerns about someone dying in his facility motivated him to act, but as soon as the big Russian stepped down onto one of the tub’s seats, the Old Man stood, roaring, throwing his arms out to his sides, inadvertently splashing the guys around the edge.

The Old Man was huge, and growing before their eyes, muscle swelling with the power of their combined cum, flexing and growling and lost in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. As large as Ivan now, maybe even bigger, the Old Man suddenly grabbed the hairless Russian around the neck and pulled him down off the seat, submerging them together.

“Get them out!” Dane yelled, remembering the stories, the morality plays. “We gotta get them the hell out of there!”

Officer Jacobs to the rescue! Kneeling by the edge of the hot tub, he reached one muscular, tattooed arm into the thick cum and felt around. “Got one!” he called. “Help me pull him out!” The Bus Driver stepped up, holding Jacobs around the waist and helping him pull.

The bloated, massive form of Ivan surfaced, and they pulled him up onto the stone floor, the cum dripping off him into a puddle - Ivan lay there with shallow, hitched breaths, eyes rolled back in his head, helplessly orgasming on himself.

And growing - if that were even possible to imagine.

Big Budd watched with an almost lustful fascination as Ivan’s already unbelievable muscle thickened, taking him far beyond even the size of professional bodybuilders, who themselves seemed inhuman to Big Budd. Ivan grew into something only imagined in comic book super-villains, who were often so massive that one speculated on how they actually moved.

And his cock nestled in the crook of chest, and his balls were the size of grapefruits.

Big Budd was caught between thinking him a freak and wondering what it would be like to be fucked by a cock that big.

What was he becoming?

“The Old Man!” shouted Dane, standing next to Ivan, watching the veins grow and begin to stand out beneath the Russian’s thin, hairless skin - Ivan’s ecstasy continued unabated. “Get the Old Man!”

Officer Jacobs still knelt by the edge of the hot tub, sinking his arm into the sloppy white goo and feeling around. Even Officer Jacobs was being affected by the cauldron of cum - his arms thickened, the veins railroaded their way up his already meaty forearms, and his cock was too hard to ignore. Clearly some sort of mental battle was happening to him, where he almost seemed to debate jumping in himself.

Finally, he yelled, “I got him! I got his leg!” But what he pulled to the surface was no leg, though it was easily as big as one - no, it was the Old Man’s arm! It was a basketball-sized biceps. It was thick, sausage fingers, and a forearm that reminded Big Budd of the way his quads used to look - bigger than Popeye!

The beast that they pulled from the hot tub was not the man they knew. There was something brutish about his features, something that reminded Big Budd of a caveman, with the heavy forehead and the distended jaw. But all traces of gray were gone from his hair, leaving it as black as night, wavy and full, matching the heavy stubble that now dominated his face.

And his body! As they pulled the Old Man from the hot tub, as the cum drained off him into a puddle on the floor - or didn’t drain off him… Big Budd thought that the Old Man’s body was ABSORBING the excess liquid that surrounded him, feeding him further, continuing the growth process. A quick glance to Ivan confirmed that suspicion - Ivan now lay on the dry floor, even his body was no longer wet.

But the Old Man was now bigger than Ivan, making him the largest of the eleven men in the room. He was bigger than the Hulk, bigger than cartoon porn, bigger than fantasy sketches by homosexual muscle-worshippers. He was so far beyond modern man that he seemed to be a step BACK in evolutionary terms.

He’d become a young, vital God of muscle - a paragon of virility.

A masculine side-show freak - his cock was nearly another leg, his balls hung almost half-way down his thighs. He lay there, lost in his own heightened orgasm, pumping out cum like a fire hose. Without effort, he took his cock in his mouth and swallowed his own seemingly endless discharge.

“Holy shit,” mumbled Little Budd, who, like the rest of them, found himself attracted to this hulking beast of a man, hyper-muscular and hirsute - found himself getting an erection merely by being in its presence.

But by then, Ivan was recovering from his orgasmic stupor, drawing deep breaths to focus himself, lifting up onto his elbow, his half-erect cock flopping down onto the floor. He mumbled something in Russian - Big Budd assumed it was “Holy shit!” - and began rubbing his free hand across his massive torso, unable to hide his growing sense of joy and wonder over his transformation. The other guys were focused on the Old Man, so Big Budd knelt to help Ivan.

“Are you all right?” Big Budd asked him, because the look on the Russian’s face was anything but all right - it seemed more like lustful. Uncontrollably lustful.

“What think you of me, Kansas man?” Ivan growled. “What think you of my new muscle size?” He flexed his unbelievable arm, then he leaned in close. “What think you of my impressive man-cock?”

With his free arm, Ivan reached up and grabbed Big Budd around the neck, bringing him in for a kiss. Though he lacked the stubble that Big Budd liked so much, the Russian was a helluva kisser. Big Budd could taste the cum on Ivan’s breath.

“I need to fuck, Kansas man,” he said. “I am now the kind of man that needs to fuck.”

But Big Budd was hesitant - as much as he WANTED to get fucked by this man, he didn’t know if it were physically possible. Officer Jacobs had a big cock, yeah, but it was a billy-club compared to the baseball bat Ivan sported between his legs. “I ain’t sure I can take all that,” Big Budd said, though he wasn’t sure he could resist, either.

Ivan smiled, and lifted his cock up in his free hand - the big head bubbled up with pre-cum, almost like Ivan had willed it that way. “This will make it so you can,” he said. “Drink, my Kansas man, and then fuck we can like men.”

“But, friend Dane,” said the big Russian, standing to show his superior size, now magnified by his bath in the hot tub, “I must fuck. Do not you make the mistake of stopping me to try. Perhaps your mind might be changing after dip in hot tub you take.”

“No!” Dane said without conviction, taking a couple of steps back. “Someone, help me!”

Naturally, it was Officer Jacobs who took action. Stepping up behind Ivan’s wide back, Jacobs put an assertive hand on the Russian’s shoulder. “C’mon, buddy,” he said. “Let’s back off, okay?”

But Ivan did nothing more than cast a glance to Jacobs, snort, and push the Officer away as easily as he might swat a fly, causing Jacobs to stumble backwards across the floor, still uncertain of his balance since gaining so much weight. Tripping over his own feet, Officer Jacobs fell flat-backed into the hot tub, like the old seventies iced-tea commercials, the thick white cum swallowing him.

Ivan continued to advance on Dane - and if Officer Jacobs hadn’t been able to stop him, how would any of the others? Only the Coach was bigger than Jacobs, and he and the Bartender were already moving to help the cop in the hot tub.

But it was another voice that stopped Ivan, an unexpected interruption from a voice so deep and so powerful that NONE of them seemed able to resist it, a voice full of lust and the promise of sex, of masculine possibility. It was the Old Man, who couldn’t be called an Old Man any longer - who was instead a Man in his Prime, an irresistible, hyper-muscled superman, whose every gesture was a pose, whose very presence promised ecstasy.

He was completely dry, his dark bodyhair swirling about in perfect pattern, not a strand of gray to be seen - he had absorbed all the cum that had puddled around him, as well as swallowing most of his own orgasm. His gigantic cock hung below his knee, almost unable to support itself as it filled with blood.

The Man in his Prime smiled, showing his perfect, white teeth. Even Ivan was stopped by this visage. The Man in his Prime spoke again, his deep voice musical and hypnotic. “If anyone’s gonna fuck Dane,” he said, “it’s gonna be me.”

He flexed his arm, and even Dane couldn’t resist - their erstwhile leader shuffled toward the magnificent beast, hypnotized, his erection growing without control, and laid his hands on the big man’s biceps.

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